


Fluffy heart

by Evil_Keshi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A dash of magic, A dash of sadness, Alternate Universe, Bisexual Dean, Canonical Character Death, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 20:26:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8299819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evil_Keshi/pseuds/Evil_Keshi
Summary: His wings were black, almost threatening, nothing as reassuring as Balthazar's ones. His clothes weren't as complimenting as Anna's white dress and although he would never feel comfortable in a dress himself, he was sure it could have been possible to give him something else than a dirty trench-coat. Or maybe he could have been given some sort of accessory to make up for his shabby clothes... After all, Gabriel had a lollipop in his hand and kids had loved that detail.Castiel wasn't happy. He was alone and failing to see his worth and his purpose, the reason why The Artist had created him... Until green eyes lit up when they caught sight of him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is a new Destiel oneshot I've been working on for a long while, although on and off. I hope you will enjoy it :)

  


Castiel often felt very lonely on his nearly empty shelf in the little shop that sold tiny toys for babies, soft stuffed animals, wooden construction cubes, Lego's, dolls, little cars and lots of other toys for children. His shelf was put at the very far end of the shop, next to the one of the stuffed animals that always got so much attention from the wide-eyed kids who stared at them in delight, wondering which one to choose.

The stuffed giraffe was a nice girl, she always had a kind word for Castiel, all alone on top of his shelf, but of course she was the first one to go: such a gentle creature would be a great friend for a little child. The dolphin plushie was nice too, if not a bit too loud when he laughed, but Castiel had gotten along just fine with him, until he too was taken away by small grabby hands and a smiling face. The cat, however, had never been his friend: he was too much of a sarcastic creature and more than once, Castiel had heard Anna say between her teeth that he was a bitch.

Anna was Castiel's sister. Just like him, she was an angel plush but unlike him, she was very pretty and it had only taken a few days for her to be noticed by a child and then bought; Castiel had been in the shop for months.

He wasn't alone at first, he had his whole family with him: Anna with her red hair, white dress and white wings had been the first to go and Gabriel had followed soon enough, his large brown eyes, somewhat reminiscing of chocolate, always appealing to children with their teasing expression. Castiel didn't doubt that he would be a great confident for kids to share their secrets and mischief.

Michael was the comforting one and he'd been adopted as soon as a little boy had stopped crying after setting his eyes on him. The relief in the mother's eyes had been just as visible as Michael's joy to be chosen.

Lucifer was the loving one. His heart was so full of love for children that it was overwhelming and he was often saddened by the fact that as a stuffed angel, he couldn't actually _do_ something to show his love for humanity and children. He had left the shop with a new family much later than Anna or even Michael, maybe because their father, The Artist, had given him a name that was unusual and definitely a bit scary. Yet he had left, like all the others.

Balthazar had barely lasted three days, he'd been swooped off his shelf as soon as a eight-year-old girl had laid her eyes on his smile. Samandriel, the soft one, had gone quickly as well, then Uriel and Raphael, both strong and reassuring presences for children.

They were all gone, except for Castiel who then had to stay alone on his shelf. His brothers and his sister had stayed in the shop for a few days, a few weeks at most, but Castiel had been there for more than six months and never once had a kid stared at him with the same joy and delight they'd had in their eyes upon seeing Anna or Samandriel - or even Lucifer.

He often prayed to his father at night, when all the other toys and stuffed animals, especially the mean cat, were asleep and couldn't hear him. He would whisper his questions and doubts and insecurities but The Artist never answered him. Maybe he just didn't care about his son anymore. Maybe he was disappointed in Castiel for not finding a human child to bring happiness to.

Or maybe The Artist was disappointed in his creation, because he had made it so different from the others and hadn't realised how bad it would come out until it was too late. Castiel didn't consider himself pretty. He had dark hair that looked almost black when the lights were off but it was nothing the like of Michael's. His older brother had nice black hair, neatly brushed and soft, while Castiel's was unruly, a mess of dark spikes and tangled strands.

His wings were black, almost threatening, nothing as reassuring as Balthazar's ones. His clothes weren't as complimenting as Anna's white dress and although he would never feel comfortable in a dress himself, he was sure it could have been possible to give him something else than a dirty trench-coat. Or maybe he could have been given some sort of accessory to make up for his shabby clothes... After all, Gabriel had a lollipop in his hand and kids had loved that detail.

He... He had nothing. Nothing remarkable or worth noticing. Except for his blue eyes. It was his only feature he was proud of, maybe because Lucifer had always told him how beautiful they were and that compliment coming from his older brother had even drowned out the rude comments the stuffed cat made every now and then about his appearance. As Anna had once put it, this cat was a bitch.

Castiel wasn't happy. He was alone and failing to see his worth and his purpose, the reason why The Artist had created him... Until green eyes lit up when they caught sight of him.

  


  


"Alright Dean, choose one and then we can go see your little brother at the maternity," John said when he and his son stopped in front of a shelf with so many stuffed animals that he already knew Dean would take at least half an hour to pick one.

Four-year-old Dean came closer to the shelf, his eyes as green as an emerald wandering over the animals in wonder. He grabbed a cat and said to his father with a pout:

"It looks mean, daddy, I don't want it."

He put it aside and took a stuffed bear instead.

"Nah, too scary."

John held back a sigh: he knew it. Dean would examine every one of them and discard them all until there was none left and he would be forced to choose one amongst those he didn't want at first. Screw the thirty minutes, they would need a whole hour. It was partly cute to see how thorough he was being for his little brother, he wanted the perfect plush for the baby and it was great, really, but... _One hour_!

"What about the lion?" he asked.

Dean thought for a little while until he stated:

"Too big."

"The mouse ?"

"Too little."

"The rabbit ?"

"I don't like it."

Alright. So John would just shut up and let his son decide without meddling. Hopefully Mary wouldn't kill him if he showed up one hour late at the hospital...

Dean pushed a tiger, a dog and a goat aside before he stilled, awaking John's hopes. And then, a miracle happened: his tiny hand wrapped itself around the body of a stuffed moose and he turned wide, _content_ , green eyes toward his father. Hallelujah.

"I want this one for Sammy," he said firmly.

Alright. Maybe it wasn't usual to get a moose as a first plush but hey, his son was anti-mainstream like that. Good boy. Plus, the moose was kind of cute... John just hoped Sammy wouldn't cry once he'd seen it.

"Fine, Dean," he said, running his hand through his boy's hair. "Let's go then, your mom and your little brother are waiting for us."

He turned around, about to walk away, but he stopped when he realised that his son wasn't following but still stood in front of the shelf instead, looking up and staring intently at something.

"Dean ?"

Kneeling beside him, John looked the same way his son did and saw a lone stuffed angel on the shelf next to the animals.

"That's an angel, Dean. You've changed your mind? You don't want the moose anymore?"

"Daddy..." Dean said, looking at his father with a plea in his green eyes. "Can I have the angel?"

Oh. Well... They came for a toy to give to Sammy, not really to pick one for Dean, who already had his fair share of toys and plushies but... John had seen somewhere, probably in one of the many books about pregnancy and parenthood Mary had made him read, that welcoming a new child could make the eldest jealous, as a baby needed his parents around all the time, which sometimes made it hard for them to look after the other one as much.

So... Buying this angel for Dean was fine, wasn't it? After all, having a little brother was a big deal, maybe his older son needed a new friend to share his secrets with. John groaned: his sons were turning him into a sentimental softie.

"Sure," he eventually said.

He reached out for the angel and couldn't help but frown: did Dean really wanted an angel plush like this? Not to be mean or anything but... Well, the angel was plainly plain.

"Thanks daddy!" Dean exclaimed in delight when his father gave him the plush, which he carefully took in his arms so that he could press it against his heart.

"You sure you want this angel and not some other toy? What about a little car?"

"Nah, I want him," Dean whined, the child's wide eyes set on the plush. "He's pretty."

John took a double look at the angel's clothes and mop of dark, unruly hair and apparently didn't see the same pretty things his son did but he dropped the topic. An insistent tug on his sleeve had him looking at Dean once more and the little boy showed his dad a small tag sewed to the inside of the angel's coat.

"What is it?" he asked, blinking curiously.

John took a closer look before answering:

"It's his name. Castiel."

"Castiel..." Dean repeated dreamily, which made his father smile as he took his son's hand and led him to the cashier. "It's pretty too."

  


  


Castiel was in Heaven. A little boy had finally picked him, _him_ , after all these months of slow and painful wait. The angel heard his name, Dean, and he found it beautiful, just as much as the boy's green eyes.

And then, Dean took him in his arms.

Oh, the joy and happiness that invaded his fluffy heart at the soft embrace, the care, the love he could feel in this boy's words and hug! Suddenly, he didn't wish to have been picked earlier, because this warmth and pure bliss coming over him were totally worth the wait. It was a strong contrast to the loneliness and sadness he had felt before, one that made him enjoy and love this instant even more.

Once his dad bought him, Dean didn't let go of Castiel. No, he held onto him, cradling him cautiously against his chest, as though not to hurt him. He spoke to him, babbling in his high-pitched voice as he showed Castiel a black car, his father's, and whispered to him, like a secret, that one day it would be his.

Dean kept holding him even as he was introduced to his little brother, staring at Sammy in awe, silent in front of this tiny baby who was looking back at him with his wide eyes.

"Hi, Sam," he whispered, his hand hesitantly rising to caress the newborn's soft and red skin.

Their mother smiled at them, her tiredness visible in her eyes but her happiness shining even brighter, and John ran a hand through Mary's blond hair before he kissed her lovingly. Dean excitedly showed her the stuffed moose he had picked himself for Sam and Castiel saw the way his green eyes lit up in relief and pride when his little brother clumsily closed his tiny hand around the antlers. He didn't expect, however, to be nearly shoved under Mary's nose nor to be introduced as the angel Castiel, Dean's new best friend.

And Castiel, now nestled in Dean's arms again, felt his fluffy heart swell with sudden, overwhelming happiness.

  


  


For a long while after Sammy's birth, Castiel found himself being everywhere Dean was. The little boy loved his angel and he was never seen without him: Dean slept in his bed with a tiny fist firmly wrapped around Castiel's arm, kept him on his knees whenever he settled on the couch to watch a cartoon on the telly, and always made a point of fastening Castiel's seatbelt when John drove his son - thus the angel too - somewhere with the Impala.

But mostly, Dean talked to Castiel. Always. Honestly, he never shut up. And the angel loved being this boy's confidante, the trustworthy and silent companion that would never betray his little secrets. Castiel was happy, having finally found someone whose eyes shone whenever they settled on him, having found his purpose: watching over Dean. He had regrets though, not many but still heavy enough to sadden him sometimes: he couldn't tell Dean that he would keep his secrets safe, nor could he return the hugs that the boy was so prompt to give him. Castiel loved them but he was unable to take Dean in his arms, to provide him with the same warmth he did Castiel, and that bothered him beyond words: Dean had made Castiel happy so he thought it was only fair if he could do the same with Dean.

In spite of this annoyance, Castiel was grateful. So, every night, as he watched the veil of sleep fall and cover green eyes, the angel thanked his father The Artist for allowing him this fate, the possibility to be there, safe and loved in Dean's little arms.

  


  


Dean was seven when he told Castiel about the pretty girl in his classroom, Jo Harvelle. She was not like the other girls, he said: she was less shy and quiet but she loved to tease Dean endlessly, which he secretly liked as well. Her mother was scary, he whispered after a beat, but Jo was so smart and so beautiful that he was willing to try and be brave not to show Ellen how frightened she made him. After all, pretty princesses were always kept by a mean dragon, right?

Castiel couldn't tell Dean this, but he wasn't sure to like Jo very much. Because soon, she was all the little boy spoke of: Jo had a new haircut, Jo's dress was beautiful, _Jo would look pretty with a flower in her hair so should I give her one, uh, Cas?_ And one day, Dean went to the Harvelle's to play with Jo.

For the first time in his life, Dean left Castiel at home, having forgotten the angel on his bed in his excitement to see Jo as soon as possible.

Castiel's fluffy heart broke a little.

  


  


One day that Dean was - again - at the Harvelle's, Castiel was pleasantly surprised to see little Sammy open the door of his big brother's bedroom and peer cautiously inside before stepping in. Castiel held back a chuckle at the carefulness of Sam's footsteps, knowing fully well that Dean didn't allow his little brother in his room when he was away himself.

The young boy climbed up the bed and bounced a little, laughing in delight as he hopped on the mattress and fell on Dean's pillow. Suddenly, there was a small pudgy hand wrapping itself around Castiel's waist and lifting him up closer to wide green eyes, darker than Dean's. And Sam, unexpectedly sounding sulky, asked with his four-year-old voice:

"Dean leave you a'one, Castyel? Sammy too. I don't wike it."

Castiel felt so sorry for Sam, who loved his big brother so much yet had been left alone today, just like him, and even though he knew that Dean couldn't always be around them, he was glad that at least someone understood the sadness he felt inside him when he ended up alone in Dean's bedroom.

  


  


As Dean grew up, so did Castiel's understanding of his boy's humanity. Something else developed as well, feelings that the angel had never seen coming, had never heard of before: could a fluffy angel like him, so tiny and... not human, fall in love with a boy made of flesh and blood? Probably not. And yet, it was happening: after a few years, Castiel had finally understood why he felt so empty (or angry, it happened too) whenever Dean talked about Jo and his other friends, or left him on his own to go wandering who-knows-where.

It hurt inside of him, inside his chest, and he had listened enough to the stories that Mary used to tell her boys to know the nature of the feelings he had for Dean.

  


  


Sweet Mary... Castiel was there, the day she died, leaving her boys in the most unexpected and cruel circumstances. The angel, protected by Dean's shaky arms that had embraced both the angel and Sammy, had watched, helpless to do a single thing, as fire licked at the walls of the house and devoured its last occupant. John had tried. He'd tried so hard to get to her in time, to save her... Castiel would never forget his haunted eyes when he realised that he'd failed the woman he loved.

  


  


Castiel was there for everything, actually. He was there while John did his best to keep his children happy after the tragedy. He witnessed Dean cry for the first time, months after his mother's death, when he'd tucked Sammy in bed while John was doing the dishes and the little boy had asked if he would read him a story like Mary did.

Thankfully, Castiel saw happier times as well or, more accurately, happier times for Dean: after all, he couldn't say that he liked it much when his human got his first kiss. It was nothing, just a little smack between giggles and awkward laughs with Jo, when Dean was eleven.

(Castiel hated Jo for a while.)

  


  


Even though Dean grew up, he never threw Castiel into a box with other toys to put him away in the basement. The angel remained in the teen's bedroom and witnessed many, many things, some of them he should probably not talk about - like the first night Dean discovered his body by himself and blushed to the roots of his hair when he saw that Castiel was on his bedside table. For some reason, Dean felt embarrassed, as if he knew that the plushie angel was something more than just that and had seen him... And Castiel had never felt so close to his human before.

The angel found himself being Dean's confident: he confessed his crushes to him, on girls and boys alike, he freaked out about it with Castiel in his arms, seeking the comfort of his oldest friend's presence; Dean, although unknowingly, even shared his first time with Castiel, who tried not to watch as two bodies writhed on the bed. (It was Cas' turn to feel embarrassed, after that.)

Castiel also tried to stop Dean's tears when his first boyfriend dumped him, comforted him when his human got scared of never finding the true love all the books and movies displayed.

All the while, through Dean's teenage years, Castiel only had one regret: he could never voice his thoughts, he could never tell Dean how he felt, how much he loved him, how much it broke his fluffy heart to see him love another one and hurt because of them.

Every night, Castiel prayed; he prayed his father, The Artist, to grant his wish of being able to talk to Dean but for years, his father remained silent and Castiel slowly despaired, only loving Dean from afar.

Until that day.

The day he felt something change inside him, his body grew and grew and grew, until the stuffed angel was not anymore. His father had heard him.

  


  


"Come on, come on," Dean muttered to himself as he emptied his wardrobe, throwing every single t-shirt and flannel he owned (read: a lot) in a messy heap behind him. "Where are you?"

A knock on the door interrupted his process and he turned around, his green eyes locking with his brother's.

"What do you want?" he groaned.

"Well, aren't you in a good mood," Sam snorted, crossing his arms on his impossibly muscular chest (Dean was _not_ jealous, damnit!) "So, who peed in your popcorn?"

"Shut up. I've lost Cas."

Sam's face softened at that, fully aware of what the stuffed angel meant in Dean's eyes.

"What do you mean, you _lost Cas_? He never leaves your room!"

"I know!" his brother shot back, clearly upset. "That's what I don't understand, he just vanished! I saw him this morning and now he's... He's gone!"

"Hey..." Sam said as he took a few steps toward his brother, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, you'll find him. Maybe you moved him and you don't remember where?"

"Right," Dean whispered, although he knew that he would never just _forget_ his angel.

Maybe that was stupid, to worry so much about some stuffed toy, but Castiel was special. He'd been Dean's for almost twenty years now and he... He meant a lot to him. For years, Dean had felt like Cas was his best friend, the one he could tell anything, the one who would understand anything. Losing him was... unthinkable.

"We're out of bread and eggs, by the way," Sam suddenly said, "plus a few other things. That's actually what I came to tell you, seeing that it's your turn to go grocery shopping this week. It might busy your mind with something else, you should go and resume looking for Castiel after that."

Dean truly doubted that but he didn't say so, feeling too downhearted to argue, and he walked down the stairs with heavy feet. Once out in the street, he kept thinking about Castiel, wondering where he might possibly have left him. For a second, he even pondered the thought that Sam had taken the angel as a childish joke, but he immediately banished that explanation: his brother knew better than to mess with Dean's most prized possessions (his angel and his car.)

Casting his eyes down as he walked with his shoulders hunched, Dean never saw the stranger with the trench-coat heading his way, not until it was too late and they bumped into each other. Dean would have fallen backwards with a yelp and a lot of inelegance, if not for the strong hand that caught his wrist at the last second.

Thrown off balance, Dean needed a moment to understand both what had happened and the fact that the arms of a stranger were now loosely wrapped around his chest. Those were nice arms. Dean lifted his head and smiled, intending to thank the stranger for his quick reflexes, when he saw the face of the man in front of him. He gasped, feeling his heart tighten in his chest for an odd reason, as he gazed into blue eyes that he had spent twenty years looking into, as he saw the black hair he had run his fingers through during so many nights, and realised whose arms had embraced him.

"C... Cas?" Dean whispered with a broken voice, filled with awe and relief.

And for the first time, Castiel opened his mouth and said the name of the boy he had cherished and watched over for twenty years:

"Hello, Dean."

  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading until the end, I hope you liked this story! Feel free to leave your thoughts and opinions in the comments, it would mean a lot to me! ;)


End file.
